


Bed of roses

by sepherim_ml



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2014!verse, Dubious Consent, Episode: s05e04 The End, Humiliation, M/M, Restraints, Self-cest, Spitroasting, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 08:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepherim_ml/pseuds/sepherim_ml
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He looks extremely lascivious, his pale skin on a bed made of roses, come, and blood.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bed of roses

**Warnings** : The End What If, 2014!Verse, self-cest, kind of restraints, dub-con bordering to non-con, (mild) humiliation, spit-roasting.  
 **A/N** : Thanks so much to Apen for the correcting my mistakes! This fills my 'Humiliation' square in my homebrewbingo card.  
  
  
  
Dean's hands are a web of lines drawn with blood, carved in the flesh, red and angry. The thorns of the roses had pricked his palms when Dean made a desperate attempt to escape from further humiliation, but his alter ego dragged him from his feet and manhandled him like he was nothing more than a stupid mare, but Dean's hands held on his useless handhold.  
  
The rose bushes are a mess of pulled up leaves, fallen petals and blood and that amuses Sam.  
  
 _Not Sam_.  
  
"Feisty," comments Sam, looking down to Dean's body on the ground. "But you know him best, don't you, Dean?"  
  
"Someone barking orders and keeping him down and he gets wet like a girl," the other Dean replies, standing up and looking down to the Dean of the Past, whom he hates more than anyone in his life, even more than his weak brother and that son of a bitch Satan. Everything that happened was Dean's fault—not Sam's, not Satan's, but Dean's.  
  
Past Dean's backside is red from all the whipping with belts that his alter ego gave him, one for every time he refused to go back in time and say yes to Michael. Stubborn little shit. But Present Dean knows him best, like his pockets.  
  
He doesn't feel regret when he looks at Past Dean's hole, spilling blood and spunk where Present Dean had a go right in front of Lucifer and under Zachariah's nose.  
  
And, damn, that was a good fuck. Tight like a pro. Nothing like Cas' sloppiness or his orgasms, taken away by the drugs. No, Dean screamed and fought, he punched and cursed, but in the end the pleasure on his face was as much as Present Dean's. His own come is splattered under him, so that little bitch better not be complaining.  
  
"Are those your buttons, Dean?" Sam is close, his usual indulgent smile is now predatory. He presses a thumb on the corner of Present Dean's mouth, then cleans it from the blood. Then, with deliberate slowness, he brings it to his mouth and licks the drop of red liquid.  
  
"Not anymore, I'm not that person anymore."  
  
"All tough, rough and bitter," chuckles Sam, amused. "I'll tell you a secret: Sammy prefers your old version, but  _I_  prefer this."  
  
"Let me see him," he pleads Present Dean, ripping the wish from the bottom of his heart.  
  
Sam moves away and shakes his head, disappointed. "Oh, Dean. You just said you're not the same anymore, you can't go back to being a whiny little bitch without shame."  
  
Past Dean groans and tries to get up on his hands and knees. He spits a lump of blood that rivals with the red of the roses for dominance. The petals soak up the blood and Sam is somehow fascinated by the show. He flips his hand and crooks his fingers; the roses wind Past Dean's wrists up and cut the flesh with their thorns.  
  
This is something worth to get his white suit dirty for.  
  
"You son of a bitch --", Past Dean groans, flexing his fingers but groaning even more from the pain.  
  
"Sloppy seconds are not my favorite," says Sam to Present Dean. "But for your ass I can make an exception."  
  
He opens his white slacks and under Present Dean's inexpressive eyes. He manhandles Past Dean in a suitable position, careless of the desperate struggles, and fucks him. A scream echoes in the deserted city, a long, pained howl and more blood flows along Past Dean's inner thighs.  
  
Watching Lucifer in his little brother's body fucking his alter ego should be twisted and disgusting, but Present Dean has already had his full dose of nine levels of crazy. His own soul is tainted; he didn't catch Croatoan virus, but there is something from that dying world that contaminated him from the inside.  
  
A moan rips from Past Dean's throat. Present Dean smirks, seeing that his past alter ego is biting his bottom lip bloodily, but the moan of pleasure escapes from his mouth anyway. Little Bitch.  
  
His cock is hard again and Present Dean's mind is forming another form of debauchery. It's the apocalypse, the end of the world, and probably his last day alive, he doesn't really need to be skittish. Only Past Dean should remember this, and hopefully it is going to rough him up.  
  
He stands in front of Past Dean and Sam chuckles, he quickens his thrusts and the rhythm jerks Past Dean forward repentantly. Present Dean grabs his chin and presents his cock, sure that he needs to punch him again or do something along those lines to make him open his mouth. He underestimates his own sluttiness because Past Dean looks up and gags on his cock without much of a blink, slurping it with hunger.  
  
Damn, now Present Dean understands people said he's got cock-sucking lips and a mouth worth dying for. His skills aren't that bad, either.  
  
Past Dean's eyes are blown in lust, even though they shoot a murderous glance towards him, but that leaves Present Dean completely unfazed, careless of the twisted sense of humiliation creeping under those long lashes.  
  
"You're such a good fuck," Lucifer slams Sam's body hard and messes with the rhythm Past Dean has with his alter ego's cock. "How come Sammy didn't fuck you before?"  
  
"Shut up," answers back Present Dean. He grabs Dean's hair, careless of his muffled protests. "Don't bring Sam into this."  
  
The Devil smiles. "Oh, Dean. You blowing yourself is less warped than your precious Sammy fucking you?"  
  
Dean moans against his alter ego's cock, when another powerful thrust hits his prostate. The tip of Dean's cock touches the back of his throat before it explodes, making Past Dean chocking, and spluttering. The last spurts of come paint his face and his mouth, open in a mute scream of pleasure when the orgasm hit him and Sam simultaneously.  
  
Past Dean collapses on the ground, panting heavily, completely out of breath. He looks amazing, covered in come and blood, his face twisted in pleasure, his hands and shoulders shaking, eyes wide open, staring at his alter ego.  
  
"Is this the future you want?" asks Present Dean, looking down at him, fixing his pants. "Is this what you fought for?"  
  
"I will never become like you." Dean's words are hoarse, clipped, but his eyes speak of fight, not surrender. He looks extremely lascivious, his pale skin on a bed made of roses, come, and blood.  
  
"Then say yes to Michael."  
  
Present Dean raises his hand and shoots to Lucifer's smiling face, while a white light wraps Past Dean's body and yanks him. The whole world disappears in a flash.


End file.
